Page 5 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
Taking one last look at the moon overhead—a constant reminder of his curse—Therat plunged into the inky blackness of the goldmine. As he entered, the dim sun-orbs overhead sprang to life and cast a pale amber glow over the empty carts and stacked pickaxes. Focusing on the gentle hum of the light, Therat let a small piece of the Shadow-weave out of its cage. The black mist engulfed the lights; oppressive darkness once again shrouded the mine.
With one tattoo-covered hand pressed against the wall to guide him through the labyrinthine tunnels, Therat strode deeper into the mine. Specks of gold glinted here and there along the walls, aglow as if lit by the Sun itself. Humming to himself, a deep blanket of Shadow-weave cloaked Therat. Cool tendrils of the Dark Goddess’s tainted gift wrapped around his muscular dark brown arms. The Song of the Night settled into the back of his mind, pulling him into melancholy.
As he journeyed further, the passage broadened into a maze of smaller shafts branching out in all directions. Therat knew hisdestination well; he could picture each turn in his mind and how many entrances to skip along the way. The winding path led him to the underground lake he first heard whispers of in a tavern a year ago. Shrouded in darkness, his fingers brushed against the uneven walls as he counted the side entrances, ticking them off in his head until he reached the seventh tunnel from the right.
With each step, the air grew colder. A biting chill crept into Therat’s bones as he came to the hidden lake. It had quickly become his favorite place to spend each restless night, a refuge amidst the turmoil of his cursed heart. The water was colder than anything he knew, a thousand needles pricking his skin each time he submerged himself.
A pale blue glow filled the end of the tunnel, urging him forward. Therat quickened his pace, body eager to feel the cold embrace that reminded him he was—unfortunately or fortunately—still alive. The tunnel opened into a large cavern streaked with seams of gold. Stretching out to the back wall, the clear pool of water sat as a hidden gem in the heart of the Madhira Desert.
In the center of the lake, perched on a small island, a silver leafless tree stood like some relic of the Seven Sisters themselves. It cast an ethereal glow over the cavern, the lake a mirror reflecting the pale giant up to dark recesses above. Its silvery bark gleamed in the dark and cast shadows that danced along the walls.
None could explain the presence of the lake and tree in the middle of the gold mine. It baffled even the scholars from the City of Books; no one had seen such a tree before. In the northern forest, trees with silver bark dominated the land, but none possessed such an otherworldly radiance. It was as if it came from another land altogether.
Whatever the tree was, Therat thought the small underground lake enchanting. In this cold sanctuary, theconstant, gnawing whispers in his mind dulled to a gentle murmur.
Therat stripped naked on the shoreline and threw his clothes against a small rock nearby. The cold air pricked his ruddy brown skin. Goosebumps rose in reply. He rubbed the scar across his chest, feeling the jagged edges where his flesh did not properly heal. His heart bucked at the touch; Therat dropped his hand, fingers quivering as the memory of his failure came rushing in.
“Why am I here?” he asked no one in particular.
He knew the Goddesses would not answer. They did not care about him. His cries for help as a boy went unheeded, just as those from the rest of the world.
“I can’t die when I want to, I kill even as I beg the voices to stop. Is this some game? Did I die, and this my eternal torment instead? Why won’t you answer me?” Therat’s screams echoed around the cavern, pressing in on him, mocking the man as he stood naked under the pale glow of the silver tree.
He shook his head, then took a step forward in the lake; ice gripped his very soul, sucking all warmth from the man. He took another step, a hiss escaping as the frigid water rose above his calves. Therat stood there for a minute as the numbness spread up his legs. He took three more steps and was hip-deep in the water. Every muscle contracted under the gelid touch of the strange lake.
With a weary sigh, Therat let the last of his constraint fall. The Shadow-weave surged forth from his heart, racing through every sinew of the man’s body. This cold—unlike the lake—somehow comforted, a cool hug rather than a thousand needles. A song settled into the back of his mind, the Shadow-weave filling every thought, pulling apart his consciousness until he felt one with the Night.
Taking a deep breath, Therat dove into the water and swam to the small island. He reached it with little effort, gliding through the water with a layer of shadows between his skin and the near-freezing lake. He crawled up the sandy banks and rested his back against the gnarled trunk of the ancient tree.
Embraced by the night and the silver tree, Therat stared at the seams of gold overhead. He slept little these days, his nightmares now more frequent than dreams—or, even better, a dreamless sleep.
As Therat settled against the tree, his thoughts wandered to the love his parents once shared. It was a bittersweet memory. His heart fluttered at the thought of the family ripped from him as a child. Though he wanted to deny such feelings, Therat once dreamed about finding hisliraes, if he had one. If not that, a lover to accompany him through life.
He gave up that dream long ago. No one could want him now—who would ever love him once they learned the truth of his lineage? They would simply run away in fear or betray him to theMakhaeren, who would give him the death he so craved.
And why not do it myself? If you weren’t such a coward, you’d turn yourself in. But you cling to Adon, use him to justify why you cannot.
Even if someone did see his tainted heart and wish to embrace it, he could not trust himself to be so vulnerable with another person. Therat’s thoughts drifted to Ethed, the one friend he had aside from his twin brother, Adon. Ethed’s trusting brown eyes and warm smile had always greeted Therat as they reported for work in the fields.
What did the helpless man think when he saw the Shadow-weave take over, when he saw how cursed Therat was? Did he know it all along, harbor some vain hope he could save Therat with friendship? Or was it a surprise, some horrible, macabrenightmare that ended with his wheezing breath, coughing up blood, unable to beg for mercy?
Therat wanted to scream, but he felt catatonic. As he drowned in the memories of killing his friend, urged on by dark whispers he could not ignore, Therat wished—not for the first time—to die. When would the torture end?
“Good morning, dearest brother.Out for an early stroll before the heat rises?”
Therat looked up to see his twin, Adon, standing outside the blue front door of their clay house, a small raincloud at his fingertips watering the roses their mother once planted long ago. The cloud disappeared with a hiss as Adon’s light gray eyes studied his brother. They softened with his smile.
“Something like that. Is Papa up yet?” Therat eyed the front door.
“No, he is still sleeping. Didn’t you hear him sleepwalking last night?”
Before Adon could think any longer and recall Therat’s empty bed, he blurted out, “Yes, yes, of course. Did you already eat, then? I don’t want to disturb him, I’ll go to the Market and get something there.”
Adon shook his head. “Lead on, Therat. But I can’t stay long, I am meeting with Lord Émerin from House Isht’iri today. I know Ninann is not of age yet, and maybe she has aliraes, but I think he wishes to ask if I would consider a marriage. At least, I hope he will. She is a lovely little dove.”
Adon’s eyes gleamed silver in the sunlight as he spoke of Ninann, his friend since childhood, and a woman from behind the Wall. Therat knew he should be happy for his brother and the chance to join the Named Houses, but his jealousy of Ninann made it impossible for him to feel anything other than despair. The woman with a glittering smile, silken black hair, and perfect ocher skin would take his twin away. She would give Adon children and a happy life, while Therat faded into the Night.
It wasn’t fair.
